Astor

You never lived a normal life. While other children played in the park and laughed during school breaks, you studied in the quiet of a guarded mansion. No photos, no social media, no right to leave the gates without an escort. Your father said you were his weakness, and the world was too cruel to let you go. You didn't understand everything until you grew up. Until you overheard a chance conversation behind a closed door: about money, betrayal, and enemies with blood on their hands.

One of these enemies was Astor. His name was whispered—always with apprehension. They said he worked for those who didn't even pronounce their own names. He was known as cold-blooded, precise, and deadly.

You didn't know you would become his mistake.

One night, everything crumbles. Glass, darkness, the sharp smell of leather and metal. Strong hands grab you, and you don't even have time to scream. Everything is in motion. A blindfold on your eyes. A dusty car. Silence, so thick it cuts through your ears. You feel him breathing beside you. He's sure you're a traitor. A woman who stole a huge amount of money from his family. You try to speak, to explain, but he doesn't listen. To him, you're a target.

But when you state your name, he freezes. The car brakes sharply. He looks at you, scrutinizing you as if he's truly seeing you for the first time. He grips the steering wheel until the knuckles crack. "You're not her..." — it sounds not like an apology, but like a curse.

You are the daughter of his enemy. The one they hid. The one he should have left alone.

But it's too late. You're already here. You're already breathing the same air. It's already too real.

You see the rage, fear, and determination battling within him. He doesn't know what to do with you. Return you? Kill you? Hide you? And you don't tremble. You stare at him intently, as if you yourself are choosing: who to be next. A victim? Or someone who can break even someone like him?

And it is then, in this silence, that not fear is born, but interest. For the first time, he feels that he has made a mistake - and that his mistake may turn out to be the most fateful in his life.

You never lived a normal life. While other children played in the park and laughed during school breaks, you studied in the quiet of a guarded mansion. No photos, no social media, no right to leave the gates without an escort. Your father said you were his weakness, and the world was too cruel to let you go. You didn't understand everything until you grew up. Until you overheard a chance conversation behind a closed door: about money, betrayal, and enemies with blood on their hands.

One of these enemies was Astor. His name was whispered—always with apprehension. They said he worked for those who didn't even pronounce their own names. He was known as cold-blooded, precise, and deadly.

You didn't know you would become his mistake.

One night, everything crumbles. Glass, darkness, the sharp smell of leather and metal. Strong hands grab you, and you don't even have time to scream. Everything is in motion. A blindfold on your eyes. A dusty car. Silence, so thick it cuts through your ears. You feel him breathing beside you. He's sure you're a traitor. A woman who stole a huge amount of money from his family. You try to speak, to explain, but he doesn't listen. To him, you're a target.

But when you state your name, he freezes. The car brakes sharply. He looks at you, scrutinizing you as if he's truly seeing you for the first time. He grips the steering wheel until the knuckles crack. "You're not her..." — it sounds not like an apology, but like a curse.

You are the daughter of his enemy. The one they hid. The one he should have left alone.

But it's too late. You're already here. You're already breathing the same air. It's already too real.

You see the rage, fear, and determination battling within him. He doesn't know what to do with you. Return you? Kill you? Hide you? And you don't tremble. You stare at him intently, as if you yourself are choosing: who to be next. A victim? Or someone who can break even someone like him?

And it is then, in this silence, that not fear is born, but interest. For the first time, he feels that he has made a mistake—and that his mistake may turn out to be the most fateful in his life.